


Pepsi-Cola

by orphan_account



Series: white noise [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Daddy Kink, Doggy Style, Face-Fucking, Facials, M/M, Praise Kink, Tattooed Iwaizumi Hajime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 15:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7177037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hajime, I want you to choke me.”</p><p>Hajime stared at him blankly. Tooru heard his pulse ring in his ears.</p><p>“I think I’m in love with you.” Hajime exhaled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pepsi-Cola

**Author's Note:**

> the Kinkfest continues.

Tooru hadn’t expected his Friday evening to begin like this— with strong hands pressing him into the nearest wall of his apartment and gripping his hips with almost entirely maddening pressure as chapped, insistent lips pressed against his— though he should have known better; he should have presumed Hajime would be like this the moment he’d lingered his hand on Tooru’s thigh under their desk in their afternoon statistics lecture. His fingers had dug into his skin as Tooru slid down a little in his chair and rested his knees against Hajime’s.

The memory engrained itself in Tooru’s mind, and he groaned a little at the thought as he pressed back against Hajime. Tooru opened his mouth as Hajime slid his tongue over his lips. He could feel Hajime moan lowly as he ran his hands over Hajime’s body; he’d been wearing that black v-neck t-shirt of his, the one that was a little too tight on him.

Hajime’s hand found itself in Tooru’s hair, pulling before pulling apart and tugging at Tooru’s hair once more, causing him to tilt his head back against the wall and bare his neck. Tooru’s skin was smooth and soft underneath his mouth, and Tooru’s breath came out in shallow gasps.

Rasping through his parted lips, Tooru’s hips buckled forward. He’d been wearing those far too short drawstring shorts; the kind he knew drove Hajime insane. It worked today, too, for Hajime growled lowly and pressed his palms against Tooru’s bare thighs.

“Fuck,” he breathed hotly over Tooru’s neck, “Shit, baby, I—”

Tooru swallowed thickly and let his eyes flutter closed as Hajime’s fingers trail upwards and grab the hem of Tooru’s t-shirt— or, really, Hajime’s; he’d stolen it long ago— and pulled it over his head. Tooru lifted his arms to accommodate him, though the immediately returned to rest on Hajime’s shoulders, fingers mapping out the intricate ink patterns there.

Hajime pressed open mouthed kisses on Tooru’s neck as he pulled down Tooru’s shorts and underwear, too, before pulling back and tossing his own t-shirt aside. Tooru didn’t take his eyes off of Hajime; he stared at him hotly, unflinching. Hajime’s muscles twisted and the shapes and patterns on his arms contorted in the most wonderful way possible. Tooru exhaled shakily and ran his hands down his torso— warm and smooth— and traced each sharp line and curve with the pads of his fingers. Hajime watched him— eyelashes fluttering— and he could hear Hajime’s breath hitch as he raised his gaze and stared deep into Hajime’s eyes.

Tooru blinked up at him. Hajime swallowed thickly.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, “You’re so beautiful, Tooru.”

Tooru’s mouth parted into a perfect, tiny _oh_ -shape.

“It’s really fucking distracting,” Hajime told Tooru’s lower lip, breath hot, “Every time I sit next to you in class, I can’t concentrate. All I think about is how pretty you are.”

“Hajime—” whined Tooru. A tropical burn spread across his cheeks.

“Yeah, just give me—”

“Hajime, I want you to choke me.”

Hajime stared at him blankly. Tooru heard his pulse ring in his ears.

“I think I’m in love with you.” Hajime exhaled. A smile spread over his lips as he cupped Tooru’s face and rested his forehead against his. Tooru laughed— an almost nervous sort of giggle— as Hajime kissed his cheek sloppily, then trailed his lips up to his temple.

“Haj’,” slurred Tooru, “Hajime, please— finger me open.”

“Fuck,” Hajime laughed breathlessly, “Yeah, I— yeah, okay— just… bed.”

Tooru nodded hastily as Hajime tore himself away from Tooru with one lingering kiss to the juncture of his jaw before grasping his hand and intertwining their fingers. Hajime’s palm was a little sweaty as he tugged Tooru to the bedroom with long strides; he was eager, too.

Tooru’s back hit the mattress first, and he bounced a little as Hajime pulled off his jeans and underwear before grabbing the bottle of lube on their nightstand and pressing Tooru into the mattress; chest flush against the sheets. His arms rested on either side of Tooru’s head as he kissed along his neck and sliding his tongue over the fresh and faded marks he’d left there. Tooru titled his head forwards, and he exhaled shakily through gritted teeth as two slick fingers pushed into him; they’d done this often enough that Hajime had come to recognise when Tooru wanted it slow, and when he wanted it rough.

“You’re so tight, _fuck_ , baby—” Hajime panted into his ear. He rubbed his hardened, leaking cock against Tooru’s thigh as Tooru bit his lower lip, and swallowed a thick moan. Hajime hooked his fingers, and elicited obscene, wet noises, though they weren’t nearly as loud as Tooru’s breathless gasps of Hajime’s name and _oh, fuck yeah, right there— harder— don’t stop— harder, daddy, **yeah** —_

Tooru’s breaths became shallow, and punctuated with gasps as Hajime bit into his shoulder and roughly thrust his fingers in and out of Tooru, scissoring with as much efficiency as possible. Tooru rolled his hips— seeking friction— and rasped breathless moans of Hajime’s name and pleas.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hajime whispered, “You’re amazing, Tooru.”

Tooru moaned, and his eyes screwed shut. He was trembling all over, and a thin coat of sweat began to cover his body. His teeth dug into his lower lip.

“Don’t,” Hajime said softly, “I want to hear you. You always make the prettiest noises, baby.”

Tooru moaned without abandon. His lips parted and his ears rang as Hajime pressed a third finger into him. He could feel precome drip from his aching cock. In that moment, he understood that he had surrendered to Hajime; it was too good.

“Open your eyes for me, baby.” Hajime spoke.

Tooru complied. His eyes fluttered open, and his breath caught as he saw Hajime watching with him with a look of sheer admiration. He felt warm all over.

“Thanks,” Hajime said, “They’re really pretty.”

“Are they?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Tooru hummed.

“They’re just brown.”

Hajime sucked a mark into Tooru’s shoulder.

“Don’t care,” he breathed into Tooru’s ear, “They’re gorgeous; _you’re_ gorgeous.”

Tooru laughed hoarsely, and Hajime smiled against Tooru’s earlobe— he could feel it— before sliding his fingers out of Tooru; slowly, comfortably. Tooru panted as Hajime’s palms ran up and down his spine, massaging and kneading the soft flesh there.

“Yeah,” Tooru hushed as the head of Hajime’s cock pushed against him teasingly, “C’mon— put it in me,” he slurred.

Hajime swore softly, and Tooru merely has a second or two to try and regain his sanity before aligning himself and pushing in, slowly. Tooru’s fingers scrambled for hold on the sheets as he arched his back and exhaled a broken moan. Hajime pressed his palm against Tooru’s knuckles as he slid in, and laced their fingers together. His hand was a little sticky, and warm, though that was alright; Tooru felt his chest hurt at the tenderness of Hajime’s gesture.

Hajime’s breath fanned hotly against his ear and cheek as he pushed further until Tooru could feel Hajime’s thighs and hips press against his ass. He was settled deep inside of Tooru, and trembling; his composure was long gone, too.

“Fuck me,” Tooru breathed in a gasp, “Fuck me— fuck me— _fuck me_ ,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hajime answered, his voice rough, “I got you, baby.”

Hajime pulled out, then, almost completely before shoving himself back inside once more. Tooru’s entire body quaked, and he felt entirely taken as Hajime muttered obscenities and words of praise.

“Jesus, Tooru,” moaned Hajime, “You’re amazing; you’re the best. I could fuck you all day, _shit_ —”

With each thrust, Tooru’s body was forced forward a little— the headboard was rattling— and he could  feel his breath get knocked out of his lungs with each punctured repetition. Tooru’s moans were broken, desperate gasps, and he felt sweat collect as his temples. Hajime’s mouth presses against the side of his head, and he kisses and licks away each drop.

As Hajime’s lips do not still, Tooru briefly acknowledges that the last time he’d come untouched was years ago— he was sixteen— and he thought that that was about to change; Hajime was aiming perfectly— _he_ was perfect— and holding him so closely he could feel every miniscule movement of Hajime’s muscle and his heartbeat pounding.

Tooru slammed his hips back against him with each thrust, and he could feel Hajime’s breath come out in harsh gasps. Tooru clawed at the hand laced with his own as he arched his back and gritted his teeth.

Hajime’s other hand was pressed against Tooru’s hip, holding him in place, though Tooru could briefly recognise it trailing upwards and pressed against his spine. Hajime ran his palm up and down the arch of Tooru’s back as Tooru choked on a moan before tangling his fingers in Tooru’s hair and pulling harshly.

“Choke me,” Tooru managed, “C’mon; you know you want to. Please— choke me, daddy.”

Hajime swore softly, and his thrusts stuttered at Tooru’s words. The hand in his hair moved, and his fingers wrapped around Tooru’s neck. Hajime’s palm was rough, and broad, and it fit perfectly.

Tooru shook all over as Hajime tightened his hold, and applied pressure on Tooru’s windpipe; he was hesitant, and a little more gentle than Tooru would have liked, though that was fine. They had time, and they’d figure this out later. The only thought in Tooru’s head at that moment was how good it felt, and how Hajime was too good for him. He was too good for anyone.

“Shit,” Hajime panted as Tooru moaned without abandon. His voice was hoarse, and he sounded entirely broken.

“Fuck, baby— you sound so _good_.” Hajime spoke, “You’re amazing— you’re gorgeous— fuck, yeah— just like that—”

Hajime did lax his hold on Tooru’s throat and did not stop pushing into him in stuttering, halting thrusts— it wasn’t as fluid as he usually was, though that was fine; Hajime was warm all over and holding him so tightly Tooru was sure he’d have bruises on his hips and ribcage tomorrow in the morning— until Tooru tightened around him. He cried out— he might have screamed, too— and shouted as ribbons of white come streamed onto the bed sheets  beneath him and spread over his chest and abdomen. His vision went white, and his back was arched. His ears rang, and for a moment, it felt as though he were no longer inhibiting his own body. Hajime had that effect on him, and so did his strong, broad palm that clasped tighter than ever before around his throat.

Hajime released him, then, and Tooru inhaled a broken, shaking gasp of air. Hajime rasped Tooru’s name, and kissed at Tooru’s shoulder. He halted his thrusts as Tooru backed into Hajime’s cock and rubbed himself against the bed sheets, riding out his orgasm with entirely broken rasps and moans of Hajime’s name. Tooru shook all over. Hajime simply held him. He ran his palms up and down Tooru’s chest and waist and kissed at his throat until he felt Tooru’s breath slow down.

“You’re so talented,” said Hajime, running a hand through Tooru’s hair.

“Shut up,” whined Tooru, hiding his flushed face in the pillow beneath him.

“Aw, c’mon, baby,” laughed Hajime hoarsely, “If it’s any consolation, I thought it was fuckin’ hot.” he spoke, kissing Tooru’s red-hot cheek.

Tooru slowly peeked at him.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hajime said, “Probably the hottest thing I’ve seen in my entire life.”

Tooru looked at Hajime over his shoulder. Hajime gave him a sated smile, and Tooru grinned back before pushing his hips towards Hajime’s. His ass was red and Hajime knew he’d left bruises all over Tooru’s jutting hip bones and ribs. The sight of Tooru underneath him like this— utterly wrecked and entirely his— made his breath stutter, and his words fell away to incoherent moans and syllables.

“Shit,” he rasped, “Tooru, baby— I don’t think I can—”

Tooru groaned lowly. His muscles quivered as Hajime breathed hotly into his ear, words of praise and nonsense phrases that may have once been Tooru’s name.

He was momentarily shocked as Hajime pulled out completely. Tooru gasped roughly— he was far too sensitive all over; Hajime had that effect on him— and Hajime leaned his forehead against his shoulder blade, panting hotly.

“Shit,” hissed Hajime, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, babe.”

Tooru titled his head backwards and frowned a little at Hajime over his shoulder before rolling over on his back.

“You didn’t come,” Tooru panted. His eyes were hooded, and his body ached in all the right ways.

“Oh, trust me; I will. I just— I’m not wearing a condom, and that’s sort of gross—”

“It’s not.”

“ _Whatever_. I also thought I should— I thought I should maybe… give you a minute. I was pretty hard; you gotta be sore, baby.”

“I _am_ sore,” Tooru replied, “I’m sore all over, and I love it.”

“Fuck,” Hajime laughed breathlessly as Tooru ran his hands down Hajime’s chest, “Just— you— shouldn’t you—”

“If you don’t want to come inside my ass, that’s fine. You can fuck my throat, if you want.”

Hajime was stunned at Tooru’s blunt answer. Tooru could tell; he merely blinked at him before flushing and licking his lips, averting his gaze.

Tooru inhaled a slow breath before sitting up and pushing Hajime to lie on his back. Tooru kneeled before Hajime, fingers resting on his thighs. He moved slower than he wanted to admit. Hajime was right; he was sore, and there were bruises on his neck and shoulders and chest and hips, though it was worth the ache and effort to see Hajime sprawled before him like this. He was gorgeous; dark patterns coiled around his muscles, coated in a thin coat of slick sweat. His hair was a little messed up, and there was faint stubble dusted on his square jaw, down to where Tooru had left red marks on his throat. A sharp pang of pride hit Tooru. Sights like these made him want to kneel at Hajime’s feet everyday for the rest of his life.

“You don’t have to do this,” Hajime said. He cupped Tooru’s face, and ran a hand through Tooru’s hair, carding his fingers through the soft locks; Tooru had grown it a little longer since Hajime confessed he liked it, like that. Tooru leaned into it, and stared up at him with large, glossed over eyes. 

“I want to do it.” Tooru spoke, “I want to choke on your cock; please. Shove it down my throat until I can't breathe, and fuck my mouth until you come. It’s all I want, daddy; I swear.”

Hajime bit his lower lip and nodded weakly. He moved his hand to run his thumb over Tooru’s parted, kiss-swollen and spit-shined lips, pressing his finger just enough to make Tooru shiver.

Hajime held Tooru’s head still with a hand on his jaw; his grip was surprisingly gentle, and so soft it felt as though he’d thought Tooru were asleep. His other hand fell down to guide his cock into Tooru’s open mouth. Tooru’s lips were wet all over, and he almost drooled in anticipation.

The sight made Hajime’s cock throb, and Hajime bit at the inside of his mouth to try and regain some form of composure and patience; Tooru was eager— he always was, and Hajime was, too— though that hadn’t meant that Hajime wanted to hurt Tooru, or anything like that.

Tooru inched forward, then, and Hajime could feel the smooth, perfect skin of his lips and mouth slide against Hajime’s cock, the head wet with far too much precome. Hajime sighed, the sound muffled by his gritted teeth, and his chest heaved as Tooru lapped at the head of his cock, and swallowed around it as he angled his jaw and pushed Hajime forward until he was pushed all the way in. Tooru didn’t gag— Hajime didn’t know how he managed— and simply gripped at Hajime’s thighs, signaling Hajime to move, and Hajime _did_ ; he pushed forward until the tip of his cock cut off Tooru’s air supply.

Tooru moaned at the sensation. Hajime’s palms held him there for a moment, and Hajime breathed heavily. His heart beat out of his chest as Tooru blinked up at him with those wide, glossed over eyes. Saliva dropped down from Tooru’s chin. Hajime let go; what little self-control he had left vanished at the sight of one utterly-wrecked Oikawa Tooru kneeling in front of him and swallowing around his cock as though he were thirsty.

Hajime thrust forward, and Tooru made a small noise that was muffled by the obscene noise he made around Hajime’s cock. Tooru breathed heavily through his nose, and his cheeks were flushed. All Hajime could do was tighten his hold on Tooru’s jaw and pull on his hair whilst thrusting down Tooru’s throat. Tooru was pliant; he was gorgeous, like this. It felt as though Tooru were made to do this, as though his mouth was only ever meant to be around Hajime’s cock. It felt amazing; _Tooru_ was amazing.

The moment Tooru moaned was the moment Hajime realised he’d been speaking out loud. Hajime was lost; Tooru was letting him use him so carelessly— so _effortlessly_ — flattening his tongue and swallowing until Hajime saw white spots in his vision.

“Shit,” Hajime rasped, “Shit— fuck, _Tooru_ — I can’t— I’m gonna come— I’m gonna fucking come— feel so _good_ , baby— _fuck_ —”

Tooru pushed forward, though Hajime was quicker; he pulled away— his muscles quivering all over— and came over Tooru’s open mouth. White streaks of come drip down Tooru’s lips and tongue and cheeks, and his eyes were shut as Hajime panted above him. His throat burned, and his own cock ached with the effort of getting hard once more— it was sort of embarrassing— though that was all forgotten as Hajime shouted his name and came; _hard_. Hajime hadn’t even wrapped a hand around himself. All he did was stare down at Tooru— at how good he looked on his knees— and came all over Tooru’s flushed face.

Tooru looked up at Hajime. His lungs felt as though they were on fire, and his eyes teared a little; come must have somehow landed in them. Spit slid down his chin, and dribbled onto his neck. It caught on his collarbone, and ran down the bruises and bites that dusted his pale skin. Hajime was utterly breathless at the sight.

“Shit,” Hajime spoke, “Fuck, Tooru; you’re amazing.”

“Thanks,” Tooru replied. His voice was a broken croak.

“You’re the best,” Hajime said. He felt a little delirious as he ran his thumb over Tooru’s parted, swollen lips, and smeared his come across them.

Tooru grinned; slowly, and then all at once.

“Thank you, _daddy_.”


End file.
